


Ink

by MessOfCurls



Series: Lines and Shapes [2]
Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Art AU, Childhood Friends, Climbing Class, Dating, Established Relationship, M/M, Tattoos, artist!josh, does this count as domestic fluff?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-14 15:42:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15392028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MessOfCurls/pseuds/MessOfCurls
Summary: Josh doesn't do normal dates.





	Ink

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DesperadoRaspado](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesperadoRaspado/gifts).



> For DesperadoRaspado, who planted the seed for this.

 

* * *

 

Chris’ first instinct was to pull Josh into a hug, their standard greeting unchanged for years, but the sight of Josh in the doorway gave him pause, the ingrained movement halted by bewildered curiosity. The reason for his tardiness was on his lips, and an apology prepared, but that too had slipped his mind.

“I guess we’re not going out?” Chris asked.

“Change of plan."

“A plan involving…” Chris’ frown deepened, bemused smile broadening while he searched for the right words. Finally, he settled on an all-encompassing “... _this?_ ”

It wasn’t an unreasonable question, yet Josh's casual stance suggested otherwise, as if it was perfectly normal to answer the door in his underwear, a sleeveless tee and black surgical gloves.

“Yeah,” Josh said brightly.

Chris gave Josh a once over. His gaze lingered on the gloves. “Okay…?”

Undeterred, Josh gestured behind him, eyes flashing with deliberate mystery. “Come in, man. All will be revealed.”

"Cryptic. Should I be scared or into it or...?” Chris asked, closing the door behind him.

Chris heard Josh laugh and followed him inside. He half-expected Josh to climb the stairs, an explanation hidden behind the studio door. When Josh veered off toward the living room, his curiosity grew.

“What are we doing, dude?”

Josh stopped behind the couch. “What does it look like we’re doing?” he asked, motioning to the coffee table beyond.

“Uh…” Chris looked from Josh to the items sprawled across the table. “...An autopsy?” he ventured.

“No, man.”

Josh laughed again. With Chris not catching on, he gave in.

“So, I’ve been thinking about going over my leg again. Fixing it up,” Josh said, absently running his fingers over the weak lines of his tattoo. “And then I got to thinking that maybe we could hang out here tonight? I could order in and you could, you know, do the honours?"

“...What?”

Chris' gaze returned to the coffee table and the array spread neatly across it, the sealed dressings, needles, ink and paper towels making far more sense in light of Josh’s explanation.

“You just assumed I'd do it, huh?”

“Assumed?” Josh glanced at the backpack hanging from Chris’ shoulder, larger and fuller than the messenger bag he usually took to work. “Says the guy who packed an overnight bag?”

Chris' mouth opened, ready to dispute it, then promptly shut. With Josh fixing him with a knowing smile and a raised eyebrow, Chris wasn’t fooling anyone.

"You're not joking, are you?" Chris asked, already knowing the answer.

"Come on, man. I trust you. Can’t be worse than last time, right?” Josh pressed.

Chris made a show of sighing. “You couldn't have text me? Given me a heads up?” he asked, voice laced with amusement.

Josh's smile lessened a touch, not put out exactly, but more subdued than before.

“We can go out if you want. I just thought…” Josh brightened again. “We don't have to. It's cool; I can get ready.”

Chris paused to consider it. Despite his nonchalance, Josh had clearly counted on a yes. His meticulous preparations said as much, extending beyond the coffee table to the kitchen where two six-packs and a grocery bag rested on the counter beside the fridge. The projector was already switched on, the faint rectangle of light on the far wall broken by their silhouettes.

Josh chewed his lip, watching him quietly.

"Dinner’s on you?” Chris asked.

“Sure.”

"And you’re not gonna bitch at me while I’m doing it?”

“I won’t.”

Chris scrutinised Josh through narrowed eyes, hand resting on his hip.

“I won't!" Josh insisted.

Chris fell quiet again, weighing it up. He'd spent the day gearing up for a night out, expecting to drop his stuff off at Josh's place, maybe pregame, then head to a bar. But with the offer on the table, he couldn't deny that the idea of staying in was appealing. Still, it was a lot of responsibility. He might not have worried about it when he was younger, filled with the naive belief that fuck it, everything would be fine, but now?

Josh’s hand roused Chris from his thoughts, gloved fingertips slowly walking the length of Chris' arm.

“Are you gonna bleed on me?” Chris asked.

Josh’s fingers halted below Chris’ elbow. “Depends how bad you are, I guess?” he pondered aloud, “but it might be fun?”

“Might?”

Josh’s lips quirked into a small, coy smile. He shrugged.

Chris smirked. It wasn't how he'd seen his Friday night going, and he certainly didn't relish the responsibility that came with it. But it had been fun last time. Dumb as hell, granted, but fun.

“Alright,” he said finally.

Josh’s face lit up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah," Chris said with fresh enthusiasm, warming to the idea. "Lemme change outta my work stuff and yeah, okay.”

"Sweet," Josh beamed. He squeezed Chris' arm then released him. "What are you drinking?”

"Surprise me."

"Beer it is."

Chris rested his weight on the back of the couch as Josh walked away. He leaned down, slackened his laces with one hand, then stepped out of his shoes, gently kicking them loose.

“I meant what I said about the bitching.”

He heard Josh snigger from the kitchen as he opened the fridge with one hand, dismissing the comment with a wave of the other.

"Yeah, yeah."

 

* * *

 

Chris emerged from the bathroom, drying his hands on a towel. Sure enough, he’d packed a bag for the weekend, trading his work shirt for the t-shirt beneath and his jeans for sweats, nicer than the pair he usually lazed around in at home.

Across the room, Josh was busy with preparations beside the coffee table, a bottle of ink and a small container in hand. Chris watched him contemplate the two vessels then shake the ink and uncap it, and noted with some amusement that Josh might have looked like a scientist conducting an experiment were it not for his lack of pants.

“Hey. Where are we doing this?”

Josh glanced up and gestured to the couch with a jut of his chin. "Where do you think?" he asked. "Sit down, man."

Josh's attention returned to the container as Chris padded across the room to join him. He poured a small measure of ink, paused to consider it, then poured a little more.

Chris rounded the couch and slipped through the gap between it and the coffee table. After dumping the towel onto the couch, he checked his phone a final time then sat down heavily.

His gaze roamed across the low table top. The equipment looked new enough, laid out with a clinical precision Chris hadn’t known Josh was capable of, a far cry from the state of Josh’s studio where mess, arty and otherwise, obscured most surfaces.

“When did you get all this stuff?” Chris asked, spreading his arms along the back of the couch.

Josh put down the containers then handed Chris a beer. He pulled his gloves off one by one, dropping them into the wastebasket by his feet. “A while back. Just didn’t get ‘round to using it.”

Chris opened the can and hurriedly drank the froth that bubbled up. Spillage averted, he looked at Josh curiously. “You’re not having one?”

“Can’t. I’m being sensible.”

Chris barely stifled a snigger. The idea that any of this was sensible was laughable.

“Yeah, _okay_.”

Affecting not to hear, Josh picked up the towel and dropped it on Chris' lap without ceremony.

Chris took another sip, placed the can beside his phone then spread the towel across his lap. When he looked up, Josh was holding out a box of surgical gloves. He took a pair and put them on, pulling them down just far enough to make them snap softly against his skin.

Josh picked up the remote from the arm of the couch. With a soft click, the Netflix logo filled the blank space on the far wall. "Trash or eps?"

"Your call," Chris said distractedly, squinting at Josh's thigh. “Wait, you shaved it?"

Already bored of scrolling through suggestions, Josh settled on a show he knew inside out. He turned the volume down, reducing the dialogue to soft murmurs. “Had to."

Chris' smile grew. "You really assumed I was gonna do this, huh?”

"And you are," Josh said smugly and put the remote aside. "Move up."

Chris obliged, and Josh sat in the space beside him, turning to place his leg across Chris' lap. Josh adjusted the cushion, propping it up against the arm of the couch, then leaned back against it.

When Josh had settled, Chris inspected the tattoo, tracing the smooth patch of skin with his finger. He'd glimpsed it plenty of times over the last few weeks but hadn't really looked at it.

The basic outline of the tattoo remained, the gaping skull and crooked antlers washed out but intact. Josh had mentioned touching it up a while back, but it had aged despite his efforts, and the lines were weak, reminding Chris of a faded nightclub stamp.

God, it was so fucking dumb though. Looking at it, Chris found himself struggling to believe it had ever seemed like a good idea.

"You sure you wanna keep this?" Chris asked.

"Yeah, I like it. It's stupid but,” Josh conceded with a shrug.

"Alright..." Chris said in an airy 'it's your funeral' kind of voice. As ready as he was going to be, he clapped his hands together and turned to Josh. "So, how do I do this?"

Josh gave him a quizzical smile. “You’ve done this before.”

“Yeah, a while ago. This is kinda different.”

The differences between the equipment laid out on the table and the crude kit they'd cobbled together as teens - comprising of little more than a 'sterilised' sewing needle taped to a pencil, some ink, tissues, and a can-do attitude - seemed vast. Sure, with a little imagination the basic components were essentially the same, but there the comparisons ended, the tools at Chris' disposal far more sophisticated than their half-assed setup from years ago.

“Not really. Same principle."

Chris looked at Josh expectantly, still clueless.

Josh sighed.

“So, first of all, don’t touch anything you don't have to so you don’t contaminate anything.”

“Got it.”

"Okay, then get that," Josh continued, pointing at a spritzer bottle.

"Right."

Chris picked it up, puzzling over the green liquid as Josh handed him a sheet of paper towel.

"Spray some of that on this, not too much, then rub it on my leg."

"Okay..."

Chris sprayed the paper towel. He looked at Josh then did as he asked, gently smoothing it over the tattoo and surrounding skin.

"Needles are there, man."

Job done, Chris balled up the paper towel, tossed it into the wastebasket, then leaned over Josh's legs to pluck a needle from the pile. He tore open the packaging and warily held it up.

"Now dip it in the ink, wipe it off and go nuts."

"Go nuts?"

Josh fetched a fresh paper towel from the pile and held it out. "You know what I mean, ass."

Chris smirked and did as he was told, dipping the needle then wiping off the excess ink. Again, he discarded the paper towel, then paused uncertainly.

“It’s cool. Same deal as before. Just don’t go too deep or too shallow or it’ll look shitty.”

“No pressure, huh?”

"Don't fuck it up and you'll be fine," Josh said with a cheery smile.

"Helpful, thanks."

Chris looked down at Josh's thigh, already regretting his decision. How the hell had he let Josh talk him into this?

“This is such a bad idea."

“Come _on_ , man.”

Needle poised, Chris pondered the tattoo, wondering where to begin. After a little deliberation, he settled on the simple curve of the skull, tentatively pressed the needle to Josh’s skin, and slowly set to work.

“Is that okay?” Chris asked after a few cautious dots.

“Yeah, s’fine,” Josh said, nonplussed.

“It doesn’t hurt?”

“Well yeah, you’re sticking me with a needle.”

Chris paused, apprehension clearly written on his face.

“It’s fine. I’m good,” Josh insisted. He held up his arm, showing off his sleeve. “I’m not exactly new to this.”

Barely reassured, Chris wiped the needle then dipped it again, discarding the ink-stained paper towel. Holding Josh’s thigh with his free hand, thumb and forefinger framing faded ink, he began poking Josh with the needle once more. It didn’t seem to be going _too_ badly, not yet at least.

“Fuck!”

Chris looked up at Josh’s outburst, eyes wide and filled with concern. Immediately, Chris’ hand was in the air, the needle held guiltily between his fingers.

“Shit! Are you…”

Chris trailed off, face dropping when Josh began to chuckle. Glaring, he slapped Josh’s arm.

“Asshole!”

“Sorry,” Josh said, sounding anything but.

Chris scowled and held out his hand.

Josh passed Chris another paper towel, watching with cat-like curiosity while Chris focused on the task at hand. A few minutes passed, broken by occasional words of encouragement and the low murmur of sitcom dialogue.

Without distraction, Chris found himself loosening up as the repetition of the act came more naturally. Though he couldn’t claim to be entirely at ease, he had to admit there was something kind of satisfying about it.

Eventually, he finished a first pass of the skull. Josh handed him another paper towel, and he sat back, peering down at the ink welling on Josh’s raised skin. He wiped it off and pondered his handiwork. Despite his misgivings, it didn’t look half-bad.

“See, it's fine. You’ve got this,” Josh said encouragingly.

"Yeah..." Chris mused, hand slowing as he worked gentle circles into Josh's skin. He hitched his eyebrows, lips curling into a smile. “Dude, I’ve got the weirdest boner right now?”

Josh snorted, grinning as Chris prepped the needle. He watched Chris turn his attention to one of the hollow eye sockets, and was pleased to see that Chris seemed more relaxed now, like he might actually be enjoying it.

“How was work?” he asked.

Chris exhaled at length, glanced up, and shrugged. “Yeah, fine. Bosses wanted to push a build live last thing on a Friday, so _that_ was fun.”

Josh looked at him, inviting more. For a moment, Chris thought to elaborate but stopped himself. It was pretty dull, and he was done thinking about it for a few days.

“Just work stuff,” Chris said, returning to the tattoo. “It’s why I was late.”

“That’s okay. You’re worth waiting for.”

Chris smirked. “Smooth."

“Thanks.”

“What about you?" Chris asked. "You get much done?"

Chris suspected he already knew the answer. Devoid of paint marks and charcoal smudges, sure signs of a productive day in the studio, it didn't look like Josh had done much. It was a delicate line of questioning - Josh quick to update him when things were going well and not so talkative when they weren't - but Josh seemed content enough.

“Nah. Between setting this up and that evil bird, I was pretty busy.”

Chris smiled, chuckling softly as he dabbed Josh's leg and prepped the needle again. He was working more confidently now, the time between each prick of the needle growing shorter as muscle memory took over. Lost in concentration, he added to the eye socket, dimly aware of Josh reaching for the table.

From the corner of his eye, Chris saw Josh hold his phone up in front of him. “Uhh... whatcha doing?”

Josh tapped his phone a few times then placed it on his lap, a picture of innocence. “Nothing."

Though not entirely convinced, Chris carried on. A moment later, he heard his own phone buzz, notification light flashing. He glanced over at it then at Josh. "S’that you?”

“Maybe,” Josh said, smiling coyly.

"Maybe?"

Josh picked up his phone, tapped and swiped a few times, then held it out.

Chris inspected the latest addition to Josh's Instagram feed: a photo of Josh's tattoo flanked by gloved fingers, needle hovering over fresh ink. A hint of Chris' t-shirt was visible beyond Josh's leg, his forearms too, his identity otherwise anonymous.

Chris read the simple caption beneath the snap, the words 'WIP #sticknpoke' followed by three skull emojis. The post had already garnered several likes.

“Since when do you use that?”

Josh rarely posted, updates to his personal account few and far between, yet somehow managed to attract an inexplicable number of followers. He shrugged.

“You tag me?” Chris asked.

“Can do?"

Chris seemed to consider it then gave a noncommittal shrug. "If you like?"

"Sure." Josh obliged with a knowing smile then put his phone aside.

Chris added a few more dots, dabbed the tattoo, then reached for the coffee table but stopped short. He frowned, puzzling over his next challenge.

“What d’you need?” Josh asked.

“Beer me.”

“Thirsty work, huh?”

Chris smiled and leaned toward the table again, for the box of gloves this time. They were just out of reach. “You wanna pass me those or--”

“No need.”

Josh shifted on Chris' lap, leaning over to fetch Chris' beer while Chris held the needle away. With a groan, he grabbed it then sat back.

Chris looked at Josh, still no closer to a solution. “How we gonna do this?" he asked.

"Easy," Josh said and held out the can. "Just lean your head back."

“Dude…”

Chris lifted his chin. With the lip of the can already pressed to his mouth, hands rendered useless by fear of contamination, Josh wasn't giving him much choice in the matter.

“No, tilt your-- no, head _back_ like--”

“Dude!”

Chris' protest went ignored, and Josh tipped the can, Chris struggling through laughter to drink from it. He managed a few hurried mouthfuls, Josh finally relenting when it began to spill onto Chris' chin and shirt.

Chris turned his head and wiped his mouth on his arm. He threw Josh a look, his scowl belied by the involuntary upturn of his mouth. "You're the fucking worst."

Josh's lips formed a broad smile. He sniggered, took a sip, then placed the can on the table, looking far too pleased with himself. "You're welcome."

They shared a look, dumb grins softening to warm smiles.

Chris tossed the balled-up the paper towel into the wastebasket with a thoughtful little sigh. “This has gotta be the weirdest date I’ve had in a while."

“Yeah?”

Chris let out a breath of laughter and held up the needle. “This is not what an average date looks like. You know that right?”

“You _want_ an average date?" Josh asked. "Want me to take you to dinner and hope you’ll put out? That kinda thing?”

"I mean... if you're paying?"

Josh chuckled and sank back against the cushion. “I dunno, man,” he mused. “None of this feels average to me.”

Chris matched Josh's smile with one of his own, memories of the past few weeks fresh in his mind. He'd stayed at Josh’s places several times, his last three weekends in fact, and while they had gone out, albeit briefly, they hadn't been for dinner, their meals ordered in or cooked in Josh's kitchen, a brief detour from the well-trodden path between bed and couch. Local bars were the usual destination of choice. They were fun and easy, and it didn’t hurt that the inevitable hangover was a perfect excuse to spend the next day in bed.

The life drawing sessions had stopped, for now at least, though not for want of trying. They'd managed a few poses in their latest attempt, a few distracted sketches, but it was difficult to maintain the same professionalism as before. Unsurprisingly, the session was a bust, in art terms at least, not that Josh seemed to mind.

Without their regular sessions to fall back on - a go-to that had seen them through the best part of several months - other plans had to be made, and now drinks and hanging out were the new order of the day. Sure, they could probably find something to do beyond post-work drinks and lazy morning afters, but if the past few weeks were anything to go by, Chris was more than happy sticking to the status quo.

Chris chewed his lip, thoughts returning to their second weekend together, a messy Friday evening out followed by a messier night in. He remembered the jangle of keys, held loosely in Josh's hand, the dull thud of Josh’s back against wood, and the way Josh's eyes had widened, flashing with pleasant surprise when Chris pinned him against the apartment door, eager to make up for a long week spent apart. In hindsight, the move surprised Chris too; it wasn't like him to be so bold, not so soon. But Josh hadn't minded that either.

Thinking about it, Chris supposed there wasn’t anything average about his time with Josh. It wasn’t the pattern his relationships usually followed. It felt different; shiny and new yet comfortable and familiar, like the surprisingly good sequel to a great movie. Yes, he was on good behaviour, more aware of what he said and did. But it was still laid back. Just hanging out.

_And poking each other with needles._

“I guess I’ve had weirder," Chris admitted.

“Yeah?”

Chris pushed his glasses up with the back of his hand and settled against the couch cushions. "Yeah. I uh, I met a girl through a friend at work. She brought her dog with her."

"What’s wrong with that?”

Chris smiled and shook his head. “No dude, it wasn’t like we went to the park or something. We went to a restaurant, this pet-friendly new age place, her choice." He looked Josh in the eye, speaking slowly for dramatic effect. "She ordered _for the dog_. I bought dinner _for three_."

Josh sniggered. "You what?"

"Seriously. She spent half the time talking to the dog and the other half talking to me _through_ the dog in this cringey baby voice.” Chris paused, not quite believing his own words. But the memories remained, just as awful as he'd said. “Dude, it was so fucking bad; I wanted to die.”

“Why didn’t you leave?” Josh asked, laughing now.

"I was in too deep! Social conventions and…” Chris grinned and bit his lip. “Man, I shoulda left, huh?”

“And you think _this_ is weird?”

“It is. But I'm having a better time."

“And it's free," Josh added.

“That too.”

Josh's laughter softened to a chuckle. Smiling, Chris prepped the needle again.

“I've got one,” Josh said.

"Weird date?"

"Yeah. So, we met at a thing, a friend of a friend kinda deal, and went out for drinks a week or so later. And it went well. Like, _too_ well?"

Chris’ lips formed a wry smile. "Okay."

"So, we have drinks and whatever then go back to his place--"

Chris quirked an eyebrow. "On the first date?"

Josh gave a subtle shrug and continued unabashed. "So yeah, we get back there, turn on the light. And there's this guy there looking at us like what the fuck?"

"Roommate?"

Josh shook his head. "His ex."

"Whaa?"

"Yeah, he was still living there. Hadn't found a place yet and was sleeping on the couch. We woke him up when we came in."

“Dude.”

Josh pushed his hair back from his face, grinning when Chris laughed in disbelief. "Man, it was so fucking awkward. Pretty sure I only got invited back to get under his skin."

“Man…”

Chris' gaze returned to Josh's thigh. A moment later, he glanced up, eyes coloured with slow realisation.

“You stayed, didn't you?” he asked, barely a question.

Josh went to speak then bit his lip, toying with his answer. “I mean... yeah?"

"Dude."

"I was already there, man. It was kinda their problem, right?”

“ _Dude_.”

Josh's smile turned sheepish, thoughts returning to the awkward, noisy spite sex in question and the walk of shame that followed. It had been okay as far as he remembered, but nowhere near good enough to warrant the overblown dramatics of his one-time date who seemed more interested in volume than contributing much else.

Josh held up his hands and gave Chris an apologetic look. “I am just a man. I have flaws.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Chris smirked, shaking his head to himself as he returned to Josh's tattoo. He added a few more dots, wiped the needle clean, then prepped again, taking his time over it. "Have you, uh… have you told anyone about us seeing each other?"

"No."

Chris' hand stilled, a momentary pause.

“Ah. Okay,” he said in the same breezy tone, adding to the tattoo once more.

It wasn't a big deal. It was new; Chris got that. Josh didn't have to if he didn't want to, and that was okay. It wasn't pressing or urgent, just a curiosity that came and went in the quiet moments of his weekday existence. But, now that he had an answer, Chris found himself unsure how he felt about it.

Maybe Josh sensed his uncertainty, or perhaps he noticed the slight furrow of Chris' brow. He spoke again, softer this time. “I mean, I wanna tell _everyone_ , you know? Thought I should probably talk to you first though. Didn’t wanna put a label on it in case you don’t?”

“How considerate.”

Chris regretted his sarcastic tone the moment he said it. It _was_ unexpectedly considerate. He stopped working and sat up straighter.

“You can tell people if you want.”

“You sure?”

"Uh-huh."

Josh's eyes brightened, and he treated Chris to a warm grin. “Hah. My sisters are gonna freak out.”

"Yeah..." Chuckling, Chris glanced away, smile turning thoughtful as he mulled something over. Finally, he met Josh's eye again. "Yeah, I uh... I might have told Ashley.”

Josh blinked, eyebrows rising just a touch. “You did, huh?”

“It just sorta came out!”

Chris' answer was honest enough; he hadn't planned to tell Ashley, not yet. But his sickeningly sunny disposition - Ashley's words - had been difficult to disguise, a dead giveaway that piqued her curiosity. Over the course of an evening, she'd gently coaxed the cause of his good mood from him, though in truth, Chris needed scant encouragement.

“I wanted to tell her,” Chris admitted.

Josh leaned back and folded his arms, smiling broadly. “What did she say?”

After the initial disbelief and temporary bout of speechlessness, it turned out Ashley had a lot to say on the matter. A torrent of questions followed, not prying _too_ much, but enough to sate her curiosity. Chris still remembered the look she’d worn, surprised and a little perplexed, but smiling warmly.

"Well, she was surprised. It's not like-- I mean, I haven't dated guys before, so it’s…” Unsure where he was going with the thought, Chris trailed off to a shrug.

"Guys plural?" Josh asked, arching an eyebrow.

Chris suppressed an eye-roll. “ _A_ guy,” he amended.

Josh cocked his head and watched Chris at length, unspoken thoughts passing behind his eyes.

"Well," he said finally, "there you go."

"Yeah..."

Chris returned to work, and Josh was pleased by the small smile Chris wore, persisting despite his focus.

_That wasn't so hard, was it?_

From the moment Chris left the apartment after their first weekend together, Josh had wanted to say something, his desire to tell everyone no mere exaggeration. But he'd stopped himself, cursed with enough self-awareness to know he tended to jump the gun when it came to stuff like this. He'd wanted to ask Chris if it was okay to mention it. Friends for years, he knew Chris well, but this was new ground, and Josh hadn't known how. He was glad Chris had, and even more relieved to find how easy it had been.

What _hadn't_ been easy was keeping his love life to himself, weekly phone calls with his sisters and conversations with friends made sparse by the glaring omission, the shift from friendship to more happening so quickly that it was difficult not to let himself get carried away.

 _"That's your problem. There’s no middle ground with you,"_ Beth had told him once, giving what she considered ‘insight’ and what Josh considered 'not minding her own fucking business' in the aftermath of yet another short-lived relationship. _"It's always all or nothing. You never take anything slow.”_

Josh shrugged her off the way he always did when she gave advice but had to concede that she was, on this subject at least, irritatingly correct. With that in mind, he'd vowed to learn from his mistakes and play it cool, reining himself in and letting Chris take the lead.

So, no pressure this time. Nice and easy. No labels if Chris wasn’t into that. Sure, Josh liked the idea of a little permanence, liked knowing where he stood, but if that's what it took to avoid the usual pitfalls, then that's what he'd do. He wasn't going to fuck it up this time, not if he could help it.

Josh's gaze wandered to his tattoo, and his soft smile became a self-deprecating smirk. Perhaps he’d failed on the no pressure front with his impromptu evening plans; having Chris tattoo him wasn’t exactly ‘playing it cool’. But maybe he didn't have to.

He liked the tattoo, just as he'd said. Maybe it wasn't the most aesthetically pleasing design - hell, even its creator seemed underwhelmed - but he had a genuine fondness for it. Perhaps he could have let it fade or done it himself, sparing Chris the task. But the more Josh thought about it, the more he realised that wasn’t the point.

Josh watched Chris add to the tattoo, wearing a soft frown of concentration as he blew a stray blonde strand from his face, and felt a swell of fresh affection. Fuck, he was pretty. He probably didn't even realise it.

Josh smiled to himself. It was nice being with someone who seemed as into it as he was, knowing they were on the same page. It didn't have to be difficult, he saw that now.

He touched Chris’ arm, and Chris glanced up, a question in his eyes.

“Hm?”

“I wanna kiss you, but…” Josh motioned to his leg and gave a regretful little shrug.

Josh watched Chris' face change, bright and knowing like a light had switched on, a little bashful in an endearing kind of way. He'd seen it more often lately; the new expression unwittingly added to Chris' repertoire, a look Josh never got tired of seeing. He doubted he ever would.

Chris considered the problem then passed the needle from his right hand to his left. He held it out and away from him and turned at the waist, arm pressed against the couch cushions. Avoiding Josh's thigh, he moved closer, and Josh leaned forward to meet him, closing his eyes.

Josh pressed his palm to Chris' neck, thumb smoothing along Chris' jaw, and felt Chris do the same a moment later, forgetting himself as Josh's mouth moved against his own, warm and slow. Chris' lips parted, and a soft brush of tongue followed, slight and not too much, heat stirring in Josh's chest and settling in his stomach when Chris sealed the kiss with a lingering press of lips.

Chris sat back with a warm huff, and Josh couldn't help noticing the way he unconsciously wet his top lip.

“Is this uh… is this gonna put you out of action or…?” Chris asked, gesturing to the tattoo.

They shared a look, and Josh felt a flush of warmth as the unspoken thought passed between them. His smile turned crooked. “I’m sure we can work something out.”

Pleased with the answer, Chris ran his palm over Josh's knee then held out his hand.

Josh gave Chris another paper towel and watched him prep again, ready to tackle the sharp angles of the antlers. He picked up his phone and sank back against the cushion with a contented sigh.

“So. What d’you wanna eat?”

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: [@Messofcurls-creative](https://messofcurls-creative.tumblr.com/)


End file.
